Memories From Heaven
by silversoul-snow
Summary: <html><head></head>Have you ever felt that moment where everything was going to be alright, because he's there, and you're there and that's all matters? He's safe, and back in your arms, and you're able to return to your usual routine. But your world comes crushing down and he looks at you and asks, 'Who are you' Established Relationship. Rated M For later chapters.</html>
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a normal day, as normal as any fishing village's day could get. The seagulls circled the islands, swooping down every now and then to snatch a fish from the surface of the ocean before making an ascend to some part of the island to enjoy their freshly-caught meal. Maia stood at the edge of the pier, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the boats that would bring in the catch for the day. Her dad had left early to go out to sea, as per his daily routine. And it wouldn't be any surprise to him to see the silhouette of his daughter awaiting the arrival of his boat.

But there was at least an hour before the anticipated time, leaving Maia much time to wonder the shores of the island. Hiking up her dress, she strolled along the batch, enjoying the gentle splashes of water against her bare skin and playing catch with the con coming waves. Soon, her dad would be back and they would be able to have a family dinner before paying some games and finally having her nightly bedtime story read to her and being tugged into bed. That was their daily routine and indeed, it was a normal day.

Until she saw a dark lump washed up against the shore.

With a gasp of excitement, she ran quickly towards it, ignoring the fact that now the bottom of her dress was wet and damp, clinging onto her skin. Occasionally, the waves would was something ashore, often clumps of seaweed or pieces of wood. Or if she was in luck, she would gain something precious, like a big fish.

Upon reaching the figure, she let out an undignified squeal, shaver dignity could mean to a 9 year old girl. For the figure was not seaweed nor was it wood,or even a small shark. but a human instead. A living breathing human. She could tell as the other's chest rose up and down slowly. He, wasn't like any of the locals that she knew on the island. With a well-built body, pales skin and crimson hair. Not exactly crimson, but more of a bad mix of wine-red and the crimson, as Maia realised shockingly that the damp hair was soaked with blood. Turning on her heels, she sprinted back to the village, yelling for her mother at the top of her voice. as adrenaline pumped through her blood. Looks like it wasn't a normal day after all.

What happened afar was a blur. She couldn't really remember much of the details, only the rough gist of the situation. The village was in excitement and uproar over the unconscious stranger. It wasn't an usual occurrence for people to visit the island, conscious or not. All she could remember was having the male, whom by the looks of it was around his late teens, carried back to the village and having him tended to by the village doctor. And it seemed, from what Maia could gather from the hushed discussions by the adults, as they deemed the children too young to be involved, but she found it unfair seeing how she was the one who found him, the cause of all those blood (she shuddered at the memory), was a wound located at the back of his head. A wound deep enough that it needed stitches but the islands' medical practices were traditional. So they mashed up a few herbs, which Maia couldn't exactly identify due to her lack of knowledge in that particular area, applied them to the wound and bandaged up his head. Maia personally thought that he looked like a mummy.

Unfortunately, there was nothing on the man for them to identify him by, let alone figure out his name. Even if he was some famous figure, they wouldn't know as the villagers weren't exactly up-to-date with that sort of stuff. So all they could do was to wait for him to wake up. And Maia was sent off to play with her friends because as worried as she was for the nameless stranger, who by the way had a really nice body, there was nothing much she could do to help with the situation, except to wait like everyone else and pray for him. And like all other 9-year old children, waiting and patience were never their forte, causing the adults to be bombarded with questions such as 'When will he wake up?', one that they simply had no answer to.

And the next few days passed peacefully, with the village gradually slipping back into their old routine as the unconscious male spent his time asleep and recuperating. Until he woke up and the villagers were in yet another commotion, for his first words were 'Where am I?', which the villagers were happy enough to give him an answer.

And 'Who am I?' which honestly, that was the question that the villagers wanted to know and he was supposed to have the answer to that.

But apparently not.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If I owned Free, the 3rd season would be about Rin and Haru's married life together.

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

It hurts. His entire body hurts. Ok, maybe not really hurting but more of a dull exhausted aching, almost as if he had finished climbing a mountain or two. There was a pounding in his head, like someone was hammering something in a muted world. And it was dark. He needed to open his eyes, he realised with a jolt.

And so he did, only to close them back again quickly when the bright light caused the pounding to increase in intensity. He opened his eyes gradually, giving them time to adjust to the outside world. Blinking as he sat up slowly, using his arms to support him, he looked around. Where was he? He was in a bed in a brightly lit room, the sunlight streaming in from an open window. The room was simply decorated, but the essence of it screaming homely to him. But it wasn't his home though, that much he could tell. He leaned forward slightly and glanced out of the window. By the look of the sun's position, it probably was around late morning. He shook his head slightly and looked around ahead, confused on where he was and what he was doing.

He looked up when the door opened, and a male walked in, wearing pants but no shirt, carrying a tray of soup and some bread. The other broke into a smile when he saw that he was up and placed down the tray on the table next to the bed. Shirtless started talking while gesturing, but the male on the bed couldn't understand what the other was saying at all. It wasn't a problem of Shirtless talking too fast or mincing his words, rather he didn't understand the language. Seeing the confused look on his face, Shirtless paused in his ramble and held up a hand - the universal sign for wait, disappearing out of the door and closed it, leaving him alone again. Waiting.

With nothing left to keep his own company except his own thoughts, he decided to rake his mind for any clues on where he was. And why was there bandages around his head. Surprisingly, only to come up short. Before he could ponder over this sudden revelation any further, the door opened once more. This time, instead of Shirtless, it was an older man, with graying long hair and what seemed like the place's indigenous outfit. He tilted his head slightly as he waited for the other to speak, unsure whether he could understand what the older male was about to say.

"I see you're up, young man. Good morning. I'm the healer of this village." He let out of sigh of relief when he realised that he could indeed understand the language. Ah, English. "Umm… Hello. Where am I?" He asked, gesturing slightly to the room. He noted that his accent was different to that of the healer's.

"You're on Crooked Island, an island of Bahamas." The healer answered as he moved towards the male on the bed, his hands checking the bandage on the other's head. One question down, lots more to go.

"What's wrong with my head? Why do I have a bandage on?" The pounding in his head didn't seem to go away, no matter how much he willed it too.

"Ah, one of the children found you on the beach three days ago, with your head bleeding. So she brought you here. Now don't move, I'm going to have to change your bandages." The healer ordered as he started to unwrap the bandages. Now that wasn't really helpful, it just opened a door to more questions.

The male sat still as he waited for the healer to change his bandages, pressing what seemed like medicinal herbs to the back of his head, where the wound was. He turned to look at the healer who had now taken a step back to admire his handiwork, nodding in satisfaction. "I'm sorry, but who am I?"

The healer froze before peering into his face, causing him to shrink back instinctively as the elder invaded into his personal space. The other spent a good few minutes staring at him, before pulling back, a worried look on his face. "But that's the question you're supposed to answer for us. When we found you, there was nothing on your body to identify you. Except for this ring." He gestured down to the beside table where a ring on a chain was lying. The male who was on the bed picked it up and cradled it, feeling a strong sense of belonging towards the ring even though he had no idea why. He slipped the chain over his neck and sighed, feeling content for some reason. The ring appeared to be important to him, though he had no idea why. He flashed the healer a shaky smile, shrugging helplessly. "I was hoping you could help me with that. You see, I don't appear to remember anything at all."

The elder sighed as he stared at the young man. "I don't suppose we have a choice, do we. Now eat up, and go out to get some sun. The children will be here to guide you along. We'll have to give you a name." He bowed slightly before vanishing out of the door, almost like Shirtless. Though he paused slightly before looking back at the male, as if remembering something. "There's a mirror in the drawer of the beside table, if you need it."

The younger stared at the empty space where the healer had once occupied. Was it a trait for the people here to vanish that quickly? He glanced down at the drawer. The elder was somehow perceptive, he did want to see how he looked like. He reached down into the drawer and opened it, taking out the mirror. He could see his reflection, and was aware of how different he looked from the elder. For a start, he hand maroon coloured hair and red eyes. And pale skin. And shark-like teeth. Definitely different. He sighed as he replaced the mirror in it's original position and closed it.

Picked up the soup and it's accompanying spoon, he sipped it slowly. The broth had a distinct taste, the flavour bursting in his mouth and leaving him feeling sated. He quickly finished off the soup, slightly astonished at how fast he was eating. He recalled what the healer had said. Found three days ago eh? That would make sense.

Pattering footsteps that were coming closer drew his attention, causing him to look up again. A girl with tanned skin and dark black hair and was in a sundress came running up to him, grinning happily as she patted his hand. The other children gathered around him too, each having either dark or tanned skin and the same black hair. He blinked at them confusedly when they started to talk, their voices lapping over each other's, not that it was a problem since he didn't understand the language.

A clearing of the throat bought his attention to the doorway, where the children had fallen silent at the sound of it. A man stood there, same tanned skin and black hair, but the way he carried himself with authority convinced the other that he was of some high position. Most likely the village chief, by the way the children were looking at him. "Welcome to our village. My name is Samoa. I'm the village chief." The deep voice resonated through the room. "Father said it was amnesia, was it?" He stared thoughtfully at the male. Father? Ah, the healer. Figures that they would be related, since both their way of speaking was similar. He nodded politely back in greeting. "We have to give you a name. How about Memwa? It means memory in Haitian." He nodded his head back, unable to think off any better idea. The name 'Memwa' fitted the situation perfectly too.

"Memwa, Memwa." The children repeated noisily, with the little girl still holding his hands. Samoa came over and rested his hands on the girl's shoulders. "This is Maia. She was the one who found you." The newly named Memwa leaned down so that he was eye to eye with the little girl and looked seriously at her. "Thank you for saving my life Maia." Maia turned her head a little, blushing. "Oh, what do we have here? Our little Maia got a crush?" Samoa grinned down at the girl. He then stood back up and looked at the children, clapping his hands to get their attention. "Now children, why don't you show Memwa around the village? It seemed like he'll be staying here for a while."

The excited children grabbed his hands, almost hauling him out of bed. They only dropped his hands for him to change into more comfortable clothing that was provided by Samoa, before regaining possession of his hands and dragged him out, excited to play the role of a tour guide for their stranger. Even though their languages were not the same, the children knew a bit of English and with the help of hand gestures, they somehow managed to convey their message across to Memwa.

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><p>AN Rin is a bit OOC here because he's still confused and a bit shaken.

Crooked Island is an actual island of Bahamas, though it's indigenous language is the Bahamian dialect, which is somewhat based off English. I changed it to Haitian in this story because I liked the way it sounded haha. And honestly, while they do speak other languages like French, Latin, Spanish, German, etc, memwa was the most name-ish sounding. The rest of them are all like either memoria, or memorie, etc.

Will beta this within a week.


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